Sense of Honor
by LifeInkognito
Summary: When Isabella Swan meets the insufferable, rude, and quick-witted British Colonel, Edward Cullen, her reputation - and therefore her chances at finding a respectable husband - are put in jeopardy.  AUH.
1. Part 1

I have a love of history. And while this story is mostly fluffy, there was quite a bit of historical research put into it.

Many thanks to my dear friend ExquisiteEdward who reads every random thing I send her way and is nothing but lovely and supportive. She is the bread to my butter.

I hope you will enjoy! This is a short tale, and will update very quickly.

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><p>Part 1 of 6<p>

My eighteenth birthday was a bright September day. My spirits were soaring. My brother Emmett had returned on leave from His Majesty's war in France, unharmed for the most part besides a few scratches. The expedition to conquer the Port at Bayonne had been a failure. Now fleets of ships sailed into Plymouth Sound with the wounded, but these were matters for older people to discuss.

In Devon there was laughing and rejoicing. It was like a holiday that carried on for weeks. Crowds gathered around the bay each day to watch ships cutting through the sea. And what a sight they were! Eighty ships or more, gathered at the docks, their white sails bellying in the wind, colorful pennants streaming from the golden spars.

The soldiers too were a sight to behold. The Duke of Buckingham—I could tell because his ship was decorated with a pennant of red and gold, the colors of his family crest—stepped onto land with more dignity than I had ever seen in a man who had just lost a battle. His head was held high, his posture straight. A dozen sailors marched behind him, proud as could be.

"I thought as much," said a fellow behind me. "There's only one man in Europe who could turn an unruly rabble into soldiers fit for His Majesty's bodyguard. That's the Cullen coat-of-arms, do you see it, hoisted beneath the Duke of Buckingham's standard?"

Even as he spoke I saw the blue and silver pennant beneath the Duke's, streaming in the wind.

Row boats were lowered from the ships' sides, the officers seated in the stern. Villagers rushed to the docks to greet the soldiers, shouting and calling, pushing against each other to be the first to welcome them home. Guards armed with bayonets halted the townspeople and ordered them away as the boats were unloaded. The spell was broken, so we returned to home.

Mother gathered us around the dining table for a celebratory breakfast. The room had been mostly untouched for months. Mother and I had preferred to eat elsewhere, hating to look upon the empty chairs. Father's chair at the other end had been empty for twelve years now. But now my brother occupied his seat at the head of the table, and that was enough to keep our spirits high.

"A fine day for your birthday," my brother said, passing me a plate of eggs. "We have all been requested to attend a banquet at the Castle, by Lady Cope."

"The Baroness!" Mother cried, her eyes alight. "Lady Cope has grown very fond of Isabella." She turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Such high connections. The Baroness will surely find you a suitable husband."

Emmett laughed at my mother's antics. "There will be ten thousand men roaming the Castle tonight. Let her loose and she'll find a husband by nightfall."

"We should clip Bella's tongue then," replied Mother. "They'll forget all about her dark eyes and her curls once she opens her mouth."

I ignored their taunting. It was true that I had a tongue that often ran away with me. But without a father to give me away properly, my finding a husband had become urgent. My features were classic and my connections notable, but without a dowry, I was hardly a catch.

That night, Mother sent our maid to dress me in my finest blue gown. My hair was pinned into a delicate twist, and my lips were stained with rouge. My brother led me to the carriage on his arm, clad in his military suit.

When we arrived, the castle was a magnificent sight. All of the world seemed to be present. Townsfolk were pressing about the castle entrance, and everywhere there were soldiers, laughing and talking. There were casks of ale standing on the cobbles beside the braziers, and tables covered in pies and cakes and cheeses. The air was close and heavy with rich scents; velvets, silk, spicy foods.

"Make way for the Duke of Buckingham," the voice of a gentleman rung out, and a passage was cleared for the commander as he passed from guest to guest.

The scene was colorful and exciting, and I—more accustomed to the quiet life of the country—felt my heart beat and my cheeks flush. I pressed forward, greedy for the color, devouring everything with my eyes. I smiled at strangers and cared not at all that I seemed bold. Another voice called out, "Make way for the Duke of Buckingham." Suddenly the crowd parted, and the Duke was not half a yard away, followed by his entourage of soldiers and noblemen. Not knowing what to do, I curtsied low, as if he were the King himself.

I heard a ripple of laughter above my head. Raising my eyes, I saw Emmett, a strange mixture of amusement and dismay on his face. He held out a hand to help me up, for I had bowed so low that I was hard upon my heels and could not rise.

"May I present my sister Isabella, your Grace?" he inquired. "It is her eighteenth birthday, and her first venture into society."

The Duke bowed gravely and lifted my hand to his lips. He looked over my shoulder at my brother. "It may be your sister's first venture, but with beauty such as she possesses, I doubt it will be her last." He looked back towards me. "But, if this is not too bold, I must advise that you practice your curtsy, my dear. A clumsy woman looks so damnably ill bred." I felt my face flush red, and then the Duke was passing on to the next group of guests. My brother frowned down at me, and then walked off into the crowd as well.

I mumbled a swear under my breath. Or possibly not under my breath.

"That was dreadful," I heard someone say from behind me.

I whipped around, scarlet and indignant. Looking down at me with a sardonic smile on his face was an officer, clad in his uniform, a blue and silver sash hanging over his shoulder. His eyes were brilliant green, his hair dark auburn.

"Do you mean my curtsy or my swearing?" I asked him, lowering my eyes to hide my humiliation.

"Both," he answered. "Your curtsy was lamentable, and your cussing merely amateur."

His rudeness rendered me speechless, and I could hardly believe my ears. I looked around for Emmett, but he had already disappeared. I was surrounded by strangers.

The most responsible thing I could think to do was withdraw with dignity. I turned on my heel and pushed my way through the crowd, searching for my brother, but then I heard that mocking voice behind me once again. "Make way for Isabella Swan of Devon!" he proclaimed loudly.

People close by looked at me with astonishment, and not knowing what to do, reluctantly cleared a passage for me, glaring at me down their noses. I walked forward with flaming cheeks, scarcely knowing where I was going.

A hand closed around my wrist. "You're going the wrong way."

I turned on my heel and stared. The auburn haired man had followed me. He still held my wrist, looking down at me with a mocking smile on his face.

"And how do you know where I'm going?"

He let go of my hand, crossing his arms over his chest. "Those doors lead into the servant's quarters. I thought I'd spare you any more shame and correct you before you caused a scene."

I scowled. "Who are you?"

"Sir Edward Cullen," he replied coolly, "a Colonel in His Majesty's Army and knighted some while ago for extreme gallantry in the field." He hummed a little, playing with his sash.

"It is a pity," I said, "that your manners do not match your courage."

"And that your etiquette," he answered offhandedly, "does not equal your looks."

His brashness, coupled with the reminder of my previous embarrassment, stung me to fresh fury. "You insufferable cad!"

I hoped to make him blanch, but I was wasting my breath. He looked at me with his face cocked to the side, and then shook his head. "You have quite a mouth on you."

For a moment I considered stepping on his toe with my heel, but then thought better of it. We were still in public. "Will you please leave me alone?"

He laughed. "You are very much like your brother. Always attempting to be polite."

"You know Emmett?"

"Certainly," he said. "Trained him myself. You share the same dark eyes. Though I must say that I like them better on you." He smiled again, no longer sardonic but disarming. I felt my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth.

"Come and look at the ships with me," he offered, holding out his arm. "His Majesty's fleets are lovely things at anchor."

"I'd better not," I said, but he had already taken my arm and began pulling me towards the doors that led to the battlements. The view looked out upon Plymouth Sound, where at least a dozen boats were anchored.

The night was still and cloudless and the moon had risen. The ships were motionless in the water, and they stood out in the moonlight clearly, their white sails luminous. I looked towards Edward Cullen, who had yet to release my arm. I struggled for something to say. "Were your losses very great in France?" I asked.

"No more than expected," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Those ships you see in the distance are filled with men who won't recover. It would be more humane to throw them overboard."

I stared at him with doubt, unsure if this was his strange sense of humor. He looked down at me, smiling, and once again I was at a loss for words.

"Come now," he said. "Let us see if you can curtsy better to me than you did to the Duke. Take your gown in your hands and bend your right knee. And then sink onto your left leg."

I stayed still, unsure of what to do. His arrogance was almost as astounding to me as his rudeness.

"No one is here to watch you. Don't think too hard on it," he insisted, waving his hand for me to get on with it.

Warily, I obeyed him, lowering my head to the ground as I did.

"Don't do that," he said quietly, and then I felt a hand on my chin, tilting my face upward. His green eyes looked intently into mine, making my cheeks flush pink. Then he took a step back and nodded. "There, that's excellent. You can do it if you try."

I raised myself, smoothing out my skirts. With appalling coolness, he rearranged the rumpled lace around my shoulders so it lay flat again. "I will not dine with an untidy woman."

"I have no intention of sitting down with you to dine," I replied grumpily.

He smirked, his white teeth gleaming at me. "No one else will ask you, I can vouch for that. Come, take my arm; I am hungry even if you are not."

He marched me back into the castle, practically dragging me behind him. Inside, the guests were already seated at the long tables in the banquet hall, and the servants were bringing in the dishes. Thousands of eyes looked up at us, but Edward Cullen did not seem to notice. Feeling my heart speed, my usual composure fled from me.

"Let us go back," I pled, tugging at his arm. He did not stop, so I tried again, "The seats are all filled."

"Go back?" he replied, his voice disbelieving. "Not on your life. I want my dinner."

He pushed his way past the servants, nearly lifting me from my feet. Hundreds of faces were staring at us, and I heard the hum of murmured conversations. For one brief moment I caught sight of my mother, seated next to the Baroness, Lady Cope. My mother stared at me with horror and astonishment in her eyes, looking to my brother for assistance.

I could do nothing but hurry forward, tripping over my gown, still being dragged along on the arm of Edward Cullen. He was taking me to the high table at the far end of the hall, where the Duke of Buckingham sat beside the Countess of Cumberland and many of the noblemen of Cornwall and Devon. They were feasting on plates of food more lavish than the rest of the guests.

I looked towards Edward Cullen with horror. "You are taking me to the high table!" I whispered sharply, dragging against his arm with all of my force.

"What of it?" he asked, stopping for a moment to look down at me with astonishment. "I'm not going to eat anywhere else." Then he looked towards a servant and ordered, "Two seats, there."

At the sound of his voice, the Duke of Buckingham broke off from his conversation with the countess. Chairs were pulled forward, people were squeezed aside, and somehow we were seated at the table, not a foot away from the Duke himself.

The Countess peered at me with stony eyes. Edward Cullen leaned towards her with a smile. "It would be my pleasure to introduce Miss Isabella Swan," he said. "Today is her eighteenth birthday."

The Countess bowed her head, appearing unmoved.

Edward Cullen bent his head towards mine. "You can ignore her. She's deaf as a post."

I sank into my chair and prayed for death, but it did not come to me. Instead I grabbed my fork and took a large bite of the roast swan that was heaped upon my plate.

The Duke of Buckingham turned to me, no recognition in his eyes that he had spoken with me earlier. "I wish you the loveliest of birthdays, my dear, and many more."

I murmured my thanks, and bent my head so my curls would cover my flaming cheeks.

"Merely a formality," whispered Edward Cullen in my ear. "Don't let it get to your head. His Grace already has a dozen mistresses, and I'd hate to see you be the thirteenth."

My face paled, my eyes darting back to the roast swan.

Edward Cullen ate with evident enjoyment, leaning down to whisper about his neighbors to me with every mouthful. He did not trouble to lower his voice much, and I could swear that his words were heard. I tasted nothing of what I ate or drank, but sat there, bewildered and horrified.

At last, the meal was drawn to a close. I felt myself being pulled to my feet by my companion. The wine, which I had swallowed as though it were water, had made my legs feel like jelly. I was glad to lean against Edward for support.

What happened next was a blur, and I have scant memory of it. There was music and dancing. I was being twirled in circles, and the band was playing faster and faster and faster. Edward Cullen had his arm on my waist, his other hand holding mine, his fingers warm and calloused against my skin.

And the next thing I knew I was in some other room of the castle, small and dark. I had no recollection of how I got there. I felt something churn in my stomach, and then I was vomiting into a bucket on the floor.

I opened my eyes and found myself suddenly on a couch, with Edward Cullen holding one of my hands and dabbing my forehead with a kerchief.

"You really should learn to carry your wine," he said severely.

I felt very ill and very ashamed. Tears gathered in my eyes.

"No, no," he whispered, and his voice, usually so clipped and harsh, was oddly tender. "You shouldn't cry. Not on your birthday."

He continued to dab at my forehead with the kerchief. I felt the thumb of his hand stroke back and forth against my palm.

"I have n-never eaten roast swan b-before," I stammered, closing my eyes from the agony of the memory.

"It wasn't so much the swan as the burgundy," he murmured. "Lie still now. It will pass."

My head was still reeling, and I was glad to have his strong hand keeping me grounded. It didn't strike me as strange that I was lying sick in some strange room with Edward Cullen tending to me, proving himself a very comforting nurse.

"I hated you at first. I like you better now," I told him softly, my eyes still closed.

"I wish I hadn't had to make you vomit before I won your approval," he answered. I opened my eyes, and he was gazing down at me with a warmth that I hadn't expected. "What an ending to a birthday." He shook with laughter, yet his voice and his hands were strangely tender.

I closed my eyes again. "How old are you?" I asked him.

"Twenty-two," he replied.

I shook my head. "That is too young to be a Colonel."

"Not if you have the talent," he said simply. "Now lean on my shoulder, and let me help you up."

I sat up, rearranging my curls. "You've been kind to me," I said, growing suddenly prim. "I won't forget this evening."

"Nor I," he replied, smiling.

"Perhaps," I murmured, looking at my hands, "you should take me to my brother."

"Perhaps I should," he answered.

I stumbled out of the little dark chamber and into the lighted hall. "Where were we?" I asked in doubt, glancing over my shoulder.

He laughed and shook his head. "The Lord only knows," he answered gravely. "But I'd wager this is the closet where the Duke combs his many wigs."

I laughed, familiar now with his strange sense of humor. He looked down at me, grinning, and for an instant he touched my hair with his hand. "I've never sat with a woman while she vomited."

I lowered my face. "Nor have I ever so disgraced myself before a man."

He bent suddenly and grabbed my wrist to pull me closer. "I think it is impossible to disgrace yourself in my eyes, Isabella," he told me, holding the palm of my hand so that it rested for a moment on his heart. Then he released me, smiling pleasantly. "Now, I think I will take you home."

That is, I think, a truthful account of how I met Colonel Edward Cullen, a man with no sense of honor or any care for his reputation whatsoever.

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><p>I hope that you like it. This story is already written, so reviewers will receive teasers.<p>

This story will be told in 5 short parts. More fics, one-shots and full length, will be coming soon, so author alert me if you wish.


	2. Part 2

Thank you to those who read and reviewed. You are all so sweet and lovely! I hope you like the next chapter as well.

As ever, my beta ExquisiteEdward is fabulous. Her story, the Color of Loneliness, is also fabulous.

Enjoy!

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><p>Part 2 of 6<p>

At home, I was admonished all over again, forced to hear for the twentieth time how a girl of my age should conduct herself. I was ordered to stay in my room for a week, because my ill behavior had thoroughly disgraced my family. It seemed I had shamed everyone. My mother was appalled to have such a daughter. Emmett was humiliated in front of his commander, the Duke of Buckingham, by my foolish curtsy. And Lady Cope had been greatly offended when I overlooked her and chose to dine at the high table, where she had not been invited.

Rumors were flaming across Devon. I had neglected remaining with a chaperone, had been observed cavorting oddly with an officer above my station, had gotten myself horribly and obviously drunk, and finally disappeared somewhere in the castle, only to return after midnight from the private rooms in a state of disarray.

My mother assured me that, had Father been alive, he would have packed me off to the nuns for two or three years. My conduct would possibly condemn me forever in the eyes of the world. As it was, my punishment was to stay at home until the scandalous night was forgotten.

But life at home was very dull. Emmett left again to train with the military, and we seldom received any visitors. Mother refused to speak with me. I was left alone to brood.

Weeks passed.

Then one day I was out in the orchard, perched in the branches of an apple tree, one of my favorite childhood hiding spots, when I noticed a horse riding in the distance. The trees hid him for a moment, and then the sound of hooves drew closer, and I realized he was coming to our home. I scrambled down from the apple tree and ran all the way to the stables. When I arrived, I saw a servant leading a strange grey horse to a stall, the same horse I had seen before.

I sprinted to the house and burst open the door. No one was in the entry way; the visitor had most likely already been escorted to the parlor. I was about to check when my mother appeared on the stairs.

"Go to your room, Isabella, and remain there until my visitor is gone," she said gravely.

My first impulse was to demand the visitor's name, but then I remembered my manners. Not wishing to give my mother any more reason to be upset, I went silently upstairs. At once I rang for Alice, the young maid who had served me and my mother for some years now, and had become my special ally. She was as good an eavesdropper as me. When she entered my chambers, her face was alight with mischief. She guessed what I wanted her for before I even said a word. "I'll hide in the hallway when he comes and get his name for you," she said. "A tall gentleman he was, a fine looking man. Looked like he'd traveled a great distance."

"No one from around here," I guessed, my face falling. Had my mother decided to send me to the nuns after all, and this man was here to collect me?

"No, not from these parts," Alice mused. "He was wearing a blue and silver cloak."

Blue and silver. The Cullen colors.

"Was his hair red, Alice?" I asked, my eyes widening with excitement.

"Yes, it was, I think," she answered.

Edward Cullen had come! I sent Alice away to listen to their conversation in the parlor. Then I paced up and down my room with impatience. The Colonel's chat with mother must have been a short one, for very soon I heard the door of the parlor open. Heavy footsteps passed through the hallway. I rushed to my window, but I couldn't catch a glimpse of him outside.

It felt like an eternity before Alice reappeared, her eyes bright with information. She was holding a piece of silver in her hands.

"He told me that he doesn't make a habit of riding ten miles with no purpose. He said you should find someplace out of your mother's sight where he could meet you." She held up the silver coin. "And then he said I could keep this for my troubles!"

At first I was offended that he took my compliance so much for granted. I should send him no answer; he had humiliated me and disgraced my family, had he not? But curiosity and my fast beating heart got the best of me. I sent Alice to show the visitor the way to the orchards, warning her not to take a route too close to the house, lest my mother saw.

Once Alice had gone, I listened for my mother's footsteps. And sure enough they sounded up the stairs. A moment later she came into my room. She found me sitting by my window, a prayer book upon on my knees. "I'm happy to see you so docile," she said.

I kept my eyes on the page and asked, "Who was that?"

"Oh, some man from the bank," she lied with grace. "He wanted to discuss a recent transaction."

"Is something wrong?" I inquired politely, looking up.

"Not at all," she said. "Just a misunderstanding. Come down for supper when you've finished your reading."

With that she left me, and I heard her pass into her own room and close the door. In a few moments I had my shoes in my hands and was tiptoeing down the stairs. I snuck out into the gardens, running as fast as I could to the orchards. I climbed into an apple tree and waited.

A few minutes passed before I heard someone moving under the trees. I use my hands to part some of the blossom covered branches and saw Edward Cullen standing beneath me. I broke off a piece of a twig and threw it at him. He shook his head and looked around for what had hit him. Then I threw another, and it hit him on the nose. "God damn it," he began, looking up. Then he spotted me laughing at him.

A few seconds passed, a smile appearing on his face, and then he was swinging himself up onto the tree as well. One of his arms circled my waist, pinning me against the trunk. The branch I sat on cracked ominously.

"Get down," I whispered, "The tree won't hold us both."

"It will if you keep still," he answered, smirking.

One false move would have sent us both to the ground, about ten feet below. But if I remained still it meant I would be crushed between the tree trunk and his chest, with his arm around me, and his face not six inches from mine. A picture of my mother's face flashed through my mind, her disgust with my behavior.

"We can't possibly converse like this," I protested, turning my head.

"Why not? I find it very pleasant."

Cautiously, he stretched his leg along the branch to give himself more balance, pulling me closer. He exhaled a warm breath, and it tickled my nose.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, still whispering for some reason.

He grinned. "Your mother wasn't very pleased to see me. Accused me of being a scoundrel, coming all this way to see you when I knew your brother was away from home."

"Why _did_ you come?" I insisted. I felt my face heating with a blush as I tried to regain some composure, despite our position.

"I've left the Army for a while. I intend to reside in Brixham."

"A somewhat sudden decision," I interjected. "Can one just_ leave_ the Army?"

"When it is me, yes. And I'm not leaving... it's more of an extended holiday." He shrugged his shoulders, and then added, "You're very nosey. That's not an admirable quality in new neighbors."

"Brixham is miles away!"

He adjusted his weight on the branch, his face coming not an inch from mine for a moment before he straightened himself and brought space between us again. I sat frozen and blinked at him.

"Ten miles," he said, stroking his lip with his finger in thought. "If I did this twice a week, my horse would be in excellent condition by the summer."

I glared at him warningly. "There's no use coming back. My mother will never let me see you. She says you are a person of ill repute."

"How so?" he demanded.

"I..." In truth, I wasn't sure.

Suddenly he loosened his hold on the branch and used his hand to brush over my shoulder. I tensed, raising my eyebrows. "There was a bug," he told me innocently.

"I think my mother is right," I said stiffly, drawing back against the tree trunk as much as possible. "There's nothing to be gained from any further acquaintance. We should put an end to this now." It was difficult to show dignity in my cramped position, but I made a show of sitting upright and bracing my shoulders.

"Why are you so determined not to like me?" he asked, still watching me with that mocking smile, his green eyes glistening.

"You embarrassed me! If I can ever show my face in town again without a string of gossips prattling behind my back, it will be a miracle."

For a moment he looked almost contrite, but then the expression was gone. "You shouldn't care so much about what others think of you."

"I should be more like you? Insulting everyone who comes my way and not caring who hears it, who I'm hurting—"

"My God, such a mouth you have!" And then he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It happened so suddenly that I had no idea what to do. It was unexpected but strangely pleasant and warm. I felt my limbs freeze, my breath catch in my throat. When he pulled back, I was rendered incapable of speech.

He reached out a hand and brushed my curls. "You have flower petals in your hair." Then he smiled crookedly, his eyes soft and tender. It reminded me of his kindness after I'd been sick in that dark closet.

My breathing was still shallow and uneven. "Why did you do that?" I asked quietly.

"I thought that was obvious." He seemed smug about something. "I_ like _you, Isabella."

I turned my head and looked down. "Why me?" Why was he so determined to pursue me, when there were hundreds of women in Devon who would be much easier to sway?

"Why not you?" He seemed surprised at my question. Then his eyebrows knit together, his expression becoming more determined. "You know, your brother mentioned you often to me. How witty and clever you are. How you constantly beat him at chess. And how you could outrun every male in Devon while wearing a skirt and petticoat."

I did not know what to think. So I was not some strange girl he'd decided to woo on a whim. Did that make his actions more honorable?

Edward became distracted when a twig brushed against his cheek. He stretched out his arm to push them away from his face. "Maybe you should tell the gardener to trim the branches next time," he muttered.

"I'm not certain that I wish for a next time."

That seemed to stop him for a moment. He stared down at me quizzically, searching my expression. I wanted to look away but was helpless against his gaze. "You can't leave unless I let you," he reminded me gently, adjusting his arms that were trapping my waist against the tree trunk for emphasis. And he was telling the truth; I was cornered.

"I don't know what you want me to do," I whispered, growing uncertain. "My mother will never approve of you."

"I'm not asking your mother. Do _you_ approve of me?"

It didn't matter what I thought; my own opinion wouldn't make much of a difference in the long run. But his question rattled me. I had no idea what to think of this enigma of a man or his intentions. His rudeness and arrogance were startling, but then he'd be so sweet to me that I'd doubt that he was ever so horrible in the first place.

When I did not show any sign of answering his question, he sighed. Then he leaned back until there was a decent amount of space between us. "You can leave if you want to."

I did not want to, but I had too much pride to tell him so. Again, he took my silence as an answer, swinging himself to the ground lithely. He reached his arms up and lifted me down beside him.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

"I'm..." I still was not sure. Logically, I knew I should slap him and shoo him away from my property. But his kiss was warm and made me feel pleasant. I'd never been touched in such a way, and my curiosity was getting to better of me.

He grinned. "Then I'll be back on Tuesday. Remember those instructions to the gardener." He reached over and plucked a twig from my hair. And then, just like that, he turned and left.

I stared after him, telling myself that he was detestable, despicable, awful. I would never see him again.

But for all of my resolutions, I was still at the apple tree again on Tuesday.

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><p>Oh dear, Bella doesn't realize how much trouble she's getting herself into. And Edward... shame on him.<p>

I am not British. But I like to pretend I have a British accent when I write these author's notes. Blimey, this has all been jolly good fun, but I think I'll be needing to visit the loo now. Bloody good show.

Well, on that not, leave a comment if you'd be so kind. Thank you for reading :)


	3. Part 3

My beta, ExquisiteEdward, is simply the most amazing lady in the universe. I just love her to death.

All of those who read and review are wonderful. I am so thrilled that you like the story thus far.

Were are now half way through. What could possibly happen next?

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><p>Part 3 of 6<p>

Once a week, or sometimes twice, he'd ride ten miles from Brixham to our orchard. And there, cradled in the apple tree, he tutored me in love. And I responded.

Those afternoons, with the bees humming above our heads and the robins and doves singing around us, were timeless. There seemed to be no end and no beginning. When he kissed me I was lost, and time disappeared altogether.

When we were not kissing, we talked. He told me much about himself, his family, his time with the military. What I had first considered arrogance, I learned to accept as confidence in his own abilities and his soldiers. All of his bitter jests were forgotten when he looked down on me with his disarming smile, so full of tenderness.

Every day before he left, he'd tell me the same thing. "I'll be back on Tuesday."

Predictably, I'd answer, "It would be best if you didn't come back."

He always smirked at me when I said this, his eyes alight with humor. "How so?"

"My mother won't approve of you, Edward, you know this. She thinks you are a danger to my virtue."

At that, he laughed wholeheartedly. "Isabella, I think my virtue is at greater risk than yours," he'd joke, looking pointedly at my hand, which was resting on his shoulder, my fingers trailing up his neck.

I'd blush, but I knew he was telling the truth. Edward had turned me wanton. And to wipe his smug smile off his face, I leaned forward to kiss him goodbye, feeling his smile under my lips.

I found myself falling in love with him. I spent my days thinking about him, my nights dreaming about him. My mother looked on with blissful ignorance. If she noticed any difference in my behavior, she never said a word about it.

I imagined he was in love with me too. He treated me with extraordinary gentleness. When he kissed me, he'd hold my face between his hands like I was a china doll. And then he'd smile down at me, his eyes softening as they met mine. He'd lean down slowly, always stopping just a moment before our lips touched. He'd wait for me to close the distance. He always waited for it to be my choice.

When he was not with me, life at home was as mundane as ever. Mother liked for me to sit with her in the parlor and pour her tea while she read her mail out loud to me. Her letters were from friends, filled with gossip. I think she wanted to upset me with news of the outside world. "Irina's become engaged," she'd say offhandedly, looking at me slyly from the corner of her eye. "Isn't she about your age? A lovely girl. She's having some friends over for tea to celebrate."

I didn't care much for such idle chitchat. "How wonderful," I'd mutter.

Only once did any of her mail catch my attention. "Oh look," she said, "Margaret says that she believes the Countess of Cumberland has been having relations with Colonel Edward Cullen."

I nearly dropped the tea pot I was holding. "What?"

She did not seem to notice my anxiety. "Margaret says they were dining beside each other four nights ago, and the Colonel was leaning down very closely to whisper in her ear."

I thought of when Edward and I had met. He'd told me that the Countess was deaf as a post. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I've never heard any good of him," my mother continued conversationally. "He's always caused his family concern. Always in debt, too, wasting his family's funds."

"He is, at least, a very gallant soldier," I said warmly. I looked towards the window, hoping that she would not see the emotion written on my face.

She scoffed. "I know nothing about that." Then she folded her letter and set it on the table beside her. "But I have no wish to see him again. He's done enough to ruin our family name."

Our conversation nagged at me. It was not that I worried about Edward being with the deaf Countess, but that the idea of him being with anyone else frightened me. Was he with other women when he was not hiding with me in the orchards? Did he make it a habit to woo girls and then leave them heartbroken when he became tired with them?

The next time Edward came, I tried to hide my doubts. What did it matter if I was not the only woman in Edward's life? Our relationship was scandalous enough as it was. I should not hope that he cared for me as I did him.

We spent the afternoon beneath the apple blossoms, and then all too soon he was lowering himself down from the tree branch. "I'll be back on Tuesday," he told me.

"It would be best if you didn't come back."

He reached a hand out to smooth my curls. Then he leaned close to kiss my temple. "Your mother still does not approve of me?" he whispered playfully in my ear.

"She says she's never heard any good of you," I relayed. "She says you've always caused your family concern."

Edward dropped his hand and took a step back, looking at me quizzically. "The Cullen's have very opinionated ideas about what is proper and what is not."

"She says you are in debt, wasting your family's funds."

He rolled his eyes. "I live comfortably. I make my own funds; I have no need to waste my family's money."

"And as for your gallantry in the field, she knows nothing of that," I continued.

He smiled wryly. "I wouldn't expect her too. Like all mothers, it is my gallantry in other spheres that concerns her."

I gasped, my heart constricting. His words, while joking, hurt me deeply. Was it true then, what my mother had said?

"What has you so upset?" he asked, reaching out to take my hand, but I pulled it away.

"I think we should put an end to this," I told him, taking a step back.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"

"There's no good that can come from this. I need to protect my reputation. A girl in my position—"

He interrupted me. "In your position? Isabella, if it's money your family is worried about—"

"It's not money!" I shouted, my face flushed red. Immediately, I covered my mouth with my hand, hoping that my voice had not echoed far enough to gain any attention. I could feel my breathing against my palm, heavy and labored.

Edward softened his voice, his face growing gentler. "Then what is this constant worry with your reputation," he asked, "if not to find a wealthy husband?"

I winced at his prying. My family's secret was not one I enjoyed divulging willingly. But Edward's constant honesty, his brash way of telling the truth always, made me feel as if I owed him the same. "My mother's only concern is that I marry a man with an honorable name," I whispered, ashamed to admit it. "My father ran off twelve years ago with a servant, and we've never heard a word from him since." I stole a glance at Edward, but his face was unreadable. Swallowing hard, I continued, "Mother has been disgraced in society for years because of his actions. Her only wish is that I find myself in better circumstances than she did."

I thought of the vague memory of a dark haired man, sitting at the dinner room table. It felt odd to speak of him out loud; the Swan's had swept his memory under the carpet years ago.

Edward was silent for a long moment, watching me with an undecipherable expression on his face.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" I asked him, growing panicked.

His lips turned upward. "Of course not. We all have our secrets, and our selfish aspirations. Me, for instance... I must marry a wealthy heiress."

"I thought you could support yourself," I reminded him, trying not to let my disappointment show on my face. I was not by any far stretch an heiress. Did this mean there was no hope at all that he could love me?

"Support myself? Yes," he said simply. "My father, who prefers to spend his nights gambling? No. Your mother thinks I am the black sheep of my family. I assure you, it's not the case."

I stared at him in silence as I thought about what he'd told me. Edward watched me, taking in my expression. Then he smiled to himself. "I'll talk to your mother."

"_What?_" I hissed. "Are you insane?"

He grinned at me debonairly. "I can be rather charming when I want to be."

"Don't be ridiculous," I started. "What in the world are you going to say to her? It's not as if you can march into the parlor and declare that we have been meeting in secret for weeks and that you suddenly have all of these opinions about—" but he stopped my tirade with a heavy kiss on my lips.

"I'll be back on Tuesday," he whispered fondly against my mouth, and then he left.

The rest of the week I floated around the house as if I were in a dreamland. What would Edward say to my mother? Would he ask for my hand? I imagined him seated in the parlor, his eyes fervent as he declared, "I cannot live without your daughter. Please do me the honor of giving us your blessing."

But that much anticipated Tuesday never came, and I never did find out what Edward intended to say to my mother.

It was Friday morning when I was summoned to the parlor. I found my mother seated beside Emmett, who I had not realized had arrived last night. Next to Emmett, a strange man in uniform that I had never seen before was smiling at me. All three of them looked very pleased about something.

Mother stood first, coming over to me and taking my hands. "Great happiness is in store for you, Bella," she told me. "Lieutenant Eric Yorkie has asked for your hand in marriage."

She went on to tell me that my lack of dowry had been overlooked, all of the formalities had been settled, and that she and my brother had accepted. Nothing remained now but to determine the date.

I stared at them all for a moment, stupefied. And then I broke out into a wild tantrum of protestation.

I shouted that I would not marry him, that I would wed no man that was not of my own choice, and that I would sooner throw myself from the roof than stand on the alter with him. In vain my mother argued with me, in vain my brother tried to extol the virtues of young Yorkie, of his steadiness, of his noble bearing, that it was amazing that he had asked for my hand at all. "You've come to the age, Bella," he said, "when we believe marriage will be the only means to settle you. This is a matter in which Mother and I are the best judges."

I shook my head, I dug my nails into my hands. "I tell you I will not marry him," I said.

Emmett looked at my mother. "I told you it would be no use," he said. "Give her some time to accustom herself with the idea, and she will come around."

"It would be best to settle it now while he's here," said my mother.

I looked at their worried, indecisive faces. Mother and Emmett loved me, I knew they did, and they were only worried for my future. "No," I told them, as calmly as I could. "I'd sooner die." And then I flounced from the room in feverish anger, running to my bedroom. I thrust the bolt through the door and fell on to my bed in tears.

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><p>Dun dun dun.<p>

Reviews, as ever, will receive teasers.

And I should also warn you that Part 4 will not be up Saturday, but Sunday. I'll be doing a lot of driving tomorrow so there will be no internet for me. Have a fantastic weekend!


	4. Part 4

Thank you to all who read. You are so sweet!

ExquisiteEdward is incredible and I love her to death.

After a day on the road, I am thoroughly exhausted. I may sleep for the next millenium. But first, Chapter 4...

Enjoy!

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><p>Part 4 of 6<p>

It seemed to me that my brother and mother had become the wicked parents in a fairy tale, and I had become the luckless princess who they were bent on wedding to an ogre. I cried until nightfall, strained and overwrought. And once I heard my mother close the door of her room to go to bed, I found my traveling cloak and wrapped it around me.

I left the house in silence. I had some harebrained scheme that I would walk through the night to Brixham and find Edward. The sky was clear enough, the moon casting enough light over the road to see. I set off with a fast beating heart down the roadway to the river, which I followed for a mile or so; then I moved westward, following a dirt road, but it was rough and crossed with intersecting lanes. My limited knowledge of direction caught up with me, and I became lost.

I'd never walked such a long distance in my life, and my shoes were thin. The night seemed endless, and the road stretched on forever. The sounds and murmurs of animals in the woods filled me with fear, though I pretended to myself that I did not care.

When dawn finally came, I found myself stranded by another stream, and encompassed by woods on either side. Fearing that I had been walking the wrong way this entire time, I decided to climb a hill and get a better look. Up high, I was finally able to see my first glimpse of the sea. Some miracle had led me in the right direction, and I had been walking to Brixham after all.

At about six o'clock I found civilization. A farmer on the road stared at me in amazement. I think he mistook me for a witch, for I saw him cross his fingers behind his back. But he pointed me in the right direction.

The sun was high above me when I finally reached the house I knew was Edward's. My heart leapt in my throat at the thought of what he'd say when he saw me. If he were there alone, it would not matter, but what if he had guests? My face was covered in sweat and grime, and my dress was torn.

I tiptoed towards the house like a thief and peered through one of the windows, uncertain of what I should do. I could hear a clatter in the kitchens and the murmur of voices, and I could smell the fatty scent of bacon and smoked ham. Windows were open to the sun, and the sound of laughter washed over me, and men talking,

I realized what a fool I was for doing all of this. I wished I was back at home in my bedroom sleeping with my head against my pillow. But there was no returning. I pulled the bell and heard the clanging echo through the house. Then I drew back as a servant came to the door. He was wearing the Cullen colors, blue and silver, and had a stern, forbidding air. "What do you want?" he asked me, his voice laced with disapproval.

"I want to see Sir Edward," I begged.

"Sir Edward and the rest of the gentlemen are at breakfast," he answered. "Go away now—he won't be troubled with you."

Over the servant's shoulder, I saw the door to the dining room open. The sound of more talking and laughter flooded through the hall, Edward's voice a clear baritone topping the rest.

"I must see Edward," I insisted, desperate now and near tears. And then, just as the servant was about to lay his hands on my shoulders and thrust me out the door, Edward himself came into the hall. He was laughing, calling something over his shoulder to the gentlemen within.

"Edward!" I shouted.

His head turned immediately, his eyes wide. "What the devil—" he began. Then he looked at his servant and ordered him away.

His strong arms pulled me into another room beside the hall, closing the door behind him. As soon as we were alone, he put his palm on my jaw and lifted my face. "What is it? What is the matter?" he said swiftly, a look of horror on his face.

I was weak and utterly worn out. Exhausted, I fell into his arms and wept upon his shoulder.

"Shush," he murmured, holding me close and stroking my hair.

I shuddered a breath into his neck. "They want me to marry Eric Yorkie," I stammered—how foolish I felt to blurt it out like this. "I didn't know what to do. I ran away last night."

I felt his shoulders shake with laughter. "Is that all?" he asked. "And you traveled ten miles or so to tell me? Oh, Bella."

I looked up, bewildered that he found so serious a matter to be funny. "What am I to do then?" I asked, blinking at him.

"Tell them you are already promised to another," he answered simply. "And if you're too afraid to tell them, then I'll say it for you. Come in to breakfast."

I tugged at his hand in consternation. "I look hideous! God only knows what your friends will think of me."

He laughed again, his eyes bright. "You look beautiful." And then he leaned down and kissed me.

I continued to protest, but he would not listen to me. He dragged me into the dining room where the gentlemen were seated around the table. I stood before them in my muddy gown, my cloak wet and wrinkled, and my slippers torn.

"This is Isabella Swan," said Edward.

At once, the men all stood and bowed to me, astonishment and embarrassment written plain on their faces.

"She ran away from home," Edward said jocularly. "Would you believe it, Sam? They want to marry her to Eric Yorkie."

"Indeed," replied Sam, quite at a loss.

"Edward," I whispered sharply, but he was already pushing me into a chair beside him.

"Eric Yorkie, you say?" one man dared to speak over the silence. "Very thin boy, isn't he? Not a lot of meat on him." A few of the guests laughed, and then their conversation started up again, their attention moving away from me.

"Would you like some bacon, Bella?" asked Edward, holding a plate toward me. I shook my head; I was too tired and faint to desire anything more than to be taken upstairs and put to rest.

Then a gentleman with white hair, older than the rest, looked towards Edward and whispered quietly, "I imagine Miss Swan would prefer to withdraw. I would summon one of your serving women, Edward."

"This is a bachelor household," answered Edward, chewing on a slice of bacon. "There isn't a woman in this place."

I heard a snort from one of the men, who put a handkerchief over his face. Edward immediately turned a menacing eye towards him, a fierce warning. Then all at once the entire crowd made their excuses and got themselves from the room.

When we were alone, I whispered, "I was a fool to come."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Not at all. But I'm glad you chose to come when you did."

"Why?"

He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He handed the document to me to see. "I've sold some of the Cullen land," he said with nonchalance. "Sam Uley gave me a fair price for it. Had you came any sooner he might have stayed his hand."

"Will the money pay your father's debts?"

He laughed derisively. "A drop in the ocean. But it will suffice for a while, until we can figure out what else to do."

"Why 'we'?" I questioned.

He grinned at me. "You don't think I'm going to allow you to marry that Yorkie boy, do you?" He pushed aside his plate and stood from his chair, as if he had not a care in the world. Then he held his hand out for me. I took it gladly.

"But you've told me you must marry an heiress to live."

"I should have no wish to live if you were wed to another man," he answered.

My smile was blinding. I felt my heart pick up in speed. "My mother won't accept you," I reminded him, though I was still grinning. "Neither will my brother."

"I'm not marrying your mother or your brother," he said, pulling me closer.

I hesitated. "But, Edward…." I held my palms flat against his shoulders to look up at him. "You must bear in mind that my dowry will be very small. And my brother might refuse to offer it at all."

At this he burst into hearty laughter. Lifting me into his arms, he twirled me in a quick circle. "It's you I want," he chuckled. "God damn your dowry."

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><p>Only one more left to go! We've got a wedding on the way, an angry brother and furious mother, and let's not forget Bella's soiled reputation.<p>

As usual, reviews get small teases.

Author alert me if you wish, I have a new story on the way, "Brave." I'm on a history kick, so it's another period setting.


	5. Part 5

Rough times, guys. Some personal drama, some writers' block, and four revamps of this chapter. After much debate, the last chapter was split into two, so there will be a part 6! I apologize greatly for the wait.

I hope you'll like it. It's short, but more will come quickly. And perhaps some lemonade, for you pervs. **

And by the way, I should mention that ExquisiteEdward truly is the most exquisite lady ever and she deserves a gold medal for helping me get through this chapter.

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><p>Part 5 of 6<p>

It was a wild betrothal, startling and swift, decided on in an instant without rhyme or reason. My family's objections were swept aside like dirt under a rug. My mother was helpless before the onslaught, my brother powerless.

Edward made it quite clear to them all that our engagement was not up for debate. He was not asking for their blessing, merely their acceptance. "Your daughter will be well cared for," he said ardently. "Bella will never want for anything."

My mother and brother were not looking at him. They watched me, their eyebrows raised, looking at me like I was guilty and foolish and young.

"Nonsense," my mother whispered, her voice soft and stunned. "I won't allow it." Her eyes were filled with shame of me.

"I don't care," I replied coldly, shaking my head. "I love him. He loves me. We're going to be married."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. She looked faint, her face growing pale. "You don't love him. You hardly know him."

I did not answer at once. I could only stand there with a sheepish expression, looking down at the floor.

"Oh no," my mother whispered. Then she turned to Edward and pointed a menacing finger at his chest. Her face was red with fury now. "You awful man! You've defiled her with your seed!"

"_Mother!_"

Emmett, who had been oddly silent until this point, his fingers curled into tight fists, chose this moment to speak. "There is no question of marriage. Isabella is engaged to Eric Yorkie."

I opened my mouth to interject, but my mother interrupted. "Isabella, you still live under my roof. Go to your room."

I felt frozen in shock for a moment, and then suddenly I burst out laughing. "You must be mad."

She bristled. "Isabella, you are young, you don't know the consequences of your actions."

"I'm eighteen." I was an adult, I was smart enough to take responsibility for my own actions, and I was painfully in love. There was nothing to be discussed, nothing to be negotiated. "If this is your final word, then I will go. But I _will_ marry Edward."

My mother paused, understanding for the first time the depth of my feelings. She went rigid, her eyes darting between us. Her lips parted, as if she was about to speak, but then she pressed them tightly together again.

"Ma'am," Edward said, standing straighter. He looked towards me, eyes softening, and then back to my mother. "I know what you must think of me. And I regard you with the upmost respect. But I will not give up your daughter."

My heart swelled at Edward's words, and if we were alone, I would have kissed him. But my mother was less affected. "Don't act like a gentleman," she replied coolly. "You've ruined my family." Then she turned to me. "I hope you will be as certain with your choice in ten years as you are now."

"Ma'am—" Edward began.

She held up a hand to stop him. "It's been a very long day. I would like to retire to my room now. Any more discussion can be continued in the morning."

And then she left. No one tried to stop her. Emmett, Edward and I stood awkwardly in silence as we listened to the sound of her heavy stamps up the stairs.

Emmett broke the silence first. "I believe you can show yourself out, Sir Edward?"

Despite Emmett's rudeness, Edward remained unaffected. "Certainly. Thank you very much for your hospitality." He turned to me, his lips turning upward slightly. "I shall be back on Tuesday."

And despite everything, I smiled.

The storm was over. And the aftermath began to set in. I went to my room and locked the door. I stayed there all night and for the rest of the day that followed. I heard the sound of my mother's pacing in her room, and my brother's knocks as he asked me to join him for breakfast.

I finally relented and opened the door when I smelt dinner being cooked downstairs. I found mother and Emmett already seated, their plates full. They did not look up as I sat down in my usual seat.

It was like a house of mourning. If there was any speaking at all, voices were hushed. We stayed mostly to ourselves, our eyes on the floor. And at night I could hear my mother weeping in her room.

After the third day, I could take it no more. "Mother…." I started, my voice hoarse. "We can't go on like this."

"I am not going to speak of what happened," she said to me. "I am to blame. I turned a blind eye and didn't see the truth until it was too late."

Her words were not what I expected. "What are you talking about?"

"All of this cavorting about in secret for months, under my nose. I should have known."

Her expression was pained, her eyes distant. And then I knew what was truly upsetting her. This was not about Edward at all. In her eyes, Edward was the mistake she had made long ago, the mistake that left her alone with no funds and two children to care for.

"Mother," I whispered. "Did my father never contact you at all?"

She blanched, her hands stiffening at her sides. "No."

And for the first time, I decided I would not leave the topic of my father untouched. We had swept his memory away long ago, yet he still continued to haunt us. "Did you not try to find him? It's his duty to support you. It's the _law_."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "The law cannot make him do what he doesn't want."

Injustice. There was always injustice between men and women. Men made the laws to suit themselves. Men did as they pleased, and women suffered from it. My mother had suffered from it.

"I know you are frightened for me," I told her, my voice softer now. "But Edward is not Charles."

At the mention of his name, she finally met my gaze. Her eyes were glassy with tears, her expression more vulnerable than I had ever seen before. "You don't really know him, Bella. His reputation... surely you've heard. What makes you think he will be true to you?"

"I don't know for sure."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at me with wide eyes, finally shocked into silence.

"Even the man with the finest reputation," I continued, "could do the same to me. The only thing I know is what's in my heart."

I could see her resolve weakening. She turned her face to the floor, tears flowing in earnest now.

I took a deep breath and went on. "Edward treats me as an equal. He doesn't care about my social standing or my lack of dowry. It's my person he loves. That is all I've ever wanted."

My mother sobbed. "All I've ever wanted for you was to find a man who will keep you safe, and be loyal to you. I don't..." She stopped herself, her hands coming up to cover her face. "I don't want you to become like me."

I closed the distance between us, my arms open. She met my embrace willingly, burying me close to her chest.

"So, you've set your heart on this fellow?" she whispered into my hair.

"We've set our hearts on each other."

"Oh, my sweet girl," I heard her say. "My Bella."

It was then that the days of mourning ended for the Swans.

And as for the Yorkie's, deeply offended, they withdrew their offer and left town.

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><p>Much to come next chapter.!<p>

Thank you so much to everyone who reads. You guys are amazing.


	6. Part 6

...Would you believe it if I told you the reason this took so long was because I had an impromptu trip to Ireland, and then I was hit by a hurricane and lost all computer access for days? Because it's all true.

Well, regardless of the lateness of this chapter, this is it guys. I hope you'll enjoy it.

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><p>Part 6 of 6<p>

We were the biggest scandal of the season.

All of Devon, it seemed, said I had eloped with Edward Cullen, and now I was to wed him out of dire necessity alone. He had defiled me in a room at the castle, carried me by force to his home in Brixham where I then lived as his mistress for three months—explaining my sudden disappearance from society after the ball. And after discovering that I was with child, I begged incessantly for him to wed me, until at last he gave in.

They were outlandish tales, hardly believable, but that didn't ease my mother's tension. Accepting my engagement to Edward Cullen, whom she had declared on many occasions to despise, had been a great leap of faith for her. I could tell she was struggling with herself not to go back on her word and forbid our marriage. But the only thing that could have been worse than my engagement to the Colonel would have been suddenly _not_ being engaged to the Colonel. So she pressed her lips together and remained quietly supportive of my choice.

True to Edward's word, he rode to Devon every Tuesday to dine in our home. It was easier for my mother to discuss wedding plans while looking at my fiancé over the brim of a glass of wine, and Emmett preferred the distraction of stuffing food into his mouth when he wished not to contribute to the conversation. Regardless, Edward acted quite oblivious to it all, smiling and thanking my family for their hospitality.

"Naturally, you shall be married here, in Devon," mother muttered over dinner one night, her eyes focused on the burgundy liquid in her glass. "Father Webster will agree to perform the nuptials, I think."

I sat up primly and nodded. "I shall write to him and ask."

"We'll have to decide upon a date, then," Edward added pleasantly, cutting into a piece of his chicken.

Mother took another delicate sip of her wine, but the wistful gleam in her eye led me to believe she was longing to down the alcohol in one gulp. "Well…" she began quietly. "I suppose a more… _prompt_… ceremony will be more… prudent…"

My brow furrowed, my confusion growing at her words. I had expected her to attempt to delay our matrimony as long as possible. And I didn't have the slightest idea what she meant by 'prudent'. Puzzled, I turned to Emmett, but he was sitting stiffly in his chair, his fist curled around his knife tightly, and his eyes locked on the side of Edward's head. For a moment I worried that he was considering doing my fiancé in, but then he turned back to his plate and stabbed the knife at his meat.

"Um, yes," I said, breaking the short silence. "I think it would be best that we did not drag out the engagement unnecessarily."

Mother grimaced uncomfortably, eyes refusing to meet mine. "And… and I suppose I shall need to purchase a… dress."

I nodded again, my gaze glancing between my mother and Edward. Whereas she seemed miserable and discomposed, Edward looked as if he were remembering a funny joke.

"I think…" I began, and then gave up, pressing my lips back together. No one was listening to me anyhow.

I was about to grab my own wine goblet when I felt something warm snake around my hand. I looked down and saw Edward's hand curled over my own, resting innocently in my lap. I cleared my throat and turned back to my plate of chicken, hoping that my reddening cheeks did not give us away.

Something loud slammed against the table, and we all flinched, our heads turning to Emmett, who had flung his fist, still gripping the handle of his knife, against the wood. "You're the lowest piece of scum I've ever seen!" he spat suddenly, staring viciously at Edward. "Are we all to sit here and discuss happy wedding plans as if we are all so pleased at your impending union?"

"Emmett, quiet!" I shrieked, my eyes widening.

A hint of a frown played on Edward's lips. "Emmett, control yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do! You're a soulless monster. How dare you seduce my sister like she's nothing more than a common harlot?"

It was the most Emmett had said since we announced our engagement. Something inside of him had broken, and all of the anger and hatred he was keeping bottled inside of him came pouring out.

"Stop it, Emmett, stop it!" I shouted, feeling childish. I looked towards my mother desperately, but she was staring vacantly at her lap, her face ashen.

"Emmett!" Edward warned again, his voice growing in volume, but my brother was already pushing himself out of his seat and storming around the table towards my fiancé, his fist curling in preparation to strike.

I reacted on instinct. I pushed my chair back, and then I was on my feet, standing in front of Edward. And just as Emmett was about to thrust out his arm, I felt my own fist fling itself upward and connect with his jaw.

"Agh!" I wailed, pulling my hand back to my chest and cradling it. My fingers were throbbing.

Emmett had taken a few steps backward, his palm holding his jaw. He looked both appalled and utterly shocked.

"My God!" I cried, my nose wrinkling from the pain. "Emmett, you _oaf!_"

"Let me see it," Edward murmured from behind me, out of his seat as well now.

I ignored him, turning back to my brother. "And I'm_ not_ with child, you _arse!_"

I did not bother to see the expression on Emmett's face. Instead, I turned on my heel and faced my fiancé, whose face was an odd mixture of amused and concern. Reluctantly, I held out my aching hand and let him take it for examination.

"It's not broken," he said after a moment. Then he grinned. "That was very impressive, you know. I don't think I've seen a man yet who can exert that amount of force on a first try and not end up with their arm in a sling."

"I'm not so sure I won't need a sling," I grimaced, my face still wrenched in pain.

Gingerly, he cradled my hand in his, his thumb brushing over my knuckles for a moment, and then he brought it up to hold against his lips. Despite everything, I felt my face turn pink at his touch.

"Isabella," my mother said softly from behind us, her hesitant voice breaking me away from the tender moment. She had risen from her seat too now, though she still hovered close to it, afraid to move. "Are you… quite sure you are not with child?"

"Of course I'm sure!" I bellowed, my temper flaring.

Mother's face paled again, her lips thin. "Oh," she whispered, and then, at length, she added, "I see."

"Yes, well, now that we are all indeed certain that I am unsullied, can we all just eat in peace?" I pulled out my chair roughly and took my seat again, grabbing my fork with my uninjured hand and stuffing a too large piece of meat into my mouth.

Emmett let go of his jaw, which was sporting an angry red mark, and lowered himself back into his seat as well, his head down like a scolded child. He picked up his glass and drank quietly.

We all sat in silence, the loudest noise in the room being our silverware as it clanked against our plates. Tension was thick in the air, but I promptly ignored it, refusing to look up at anyone.

My mother hesitantly cleared her throat. "We should make an appointment at a dress shop in London immediately. Those things take time, you know, and you'll need to be there for fittings."

And just like that, we were back to normal, quietly discussing wedding plans as we finished the last of our meal.

During the month that followed, the Swan residence became a place of wedding madness. Papers were signed, and our official request for a marriage license was sent. A letter was written to the reverend of our local parish, asking him to perform the ceremony. A tailor in London was contacted, and our dining room table quickly became overrun with samples of white fabric and delicate laces. Invitations needed to be sent, flowers needed to be purchased, a honeymoon needed to be planned...

It was chaos, but my mother seemed pleased enough to throw herself into the preparations. It was a suitable distraction from the uneasiness that now existed between us. She did not dare to speak of her disapproval of Edward again, yet she showed no outward signs of warming towards him. Instead, she busied herself with choosing flower colors or creating elaborate dinner menus for our guests.

On the rare occasion that Emmett spoke to either of us, it was usually to relay a warning. In one instance, I heard him mutter to Edward, "I should warn you, should Isabella bear a child in less than nine months from now, I will be compelled to kill you."

Edward replied with a sardonic grin. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

But even Emmett knew better than to try and dissuade us any longer. Edward and I made it quite clear that, with my family's approval or without, we would be married by the month's end. It was easier to support our marriage than continue to fight against us.

And then the wedding day approached. The marriage license had been validated, the guests were arriving, and my mother was putting together the last button at the top of my long white dress. Nothing remained but to bring the bride and groom to the alter.

Emmett was waiting for me behind the doors of the church, ready to walk me down the aisle in place of my father. He looked dashing in his suit, and he even offered me a slight smile as he held his arm out for me to hold. "You can still change your mind, you know," he whispered to me, his face quite stern and serious. "You only need to say the word."

I shook my head. "Never in this world."

The doors were opened, and our guests slowly turned their heads to smile at me. I could see Lady Cope amongst them, looking quite pleased, and the Duke of Buckingham sitting off to the side, his expression very bored. I saw the faces of my childhood friends, the ladies from my mother's book club, men in military uniform. And they were all seated in the pews, grins on their faces, their eyes alight as I swept past them, long white skirt trailing behind me, moving towards Father Webster.

And then my brother released my hand, and I felt someone else take hold of it. I looked up and there was Edward, my husband to be, his lips curling upward slightly as my face flushed pink with joy.

The ceremony was very plain, very simple. The reverend ask us questions about faith and love and sickness and health. Edward made his responses in a clear, decided voice, his eyes on me, deep and green, and then grinned as I repeated the vows with as much conviction. A buttery gleam of sunshine filtered through the stained window and onto the whitewashed walls. Outside, I could hear birds singing from the cluster of elms beside the church, and the distant baa-ings of the sheep in the fields.

"You may kiss the bride," said the reverend.

And then his lips were on mine, and our world was perfect.

The reception was a blur, and I can not recall much of it. There were seas of faces, many of them unknown to me, greeting us one by one to wish us many happy years together. We were seated together at a table, hands entwined, thanking them, and holding out our wine glasses to cheer our good fortune. There was a shake of hands between Edward and Emmett, and the warm arms of my mother as she hugged me close and kissed my hair. And then we danced and danced, my eyes never leaving Edward's, my feet feeling as if they never touched the floor.

But I can recollect the evening that followed as if it were yesterday. Back in Edward's home in Brixham, the servants had all went to bed early, giving us privacy for the night. I sat in the center of the large bed, still dressed in my white gown, pillows packed behind me. Edward stood by the window, gazing out towards the forest.

I stared at his form, the way the moonlight made his hair seem darker, the attractive hunch of his shoulders, the straightness of his sharp nose. Thoughts flooded through my mind, more romantic than I thought myself capable of. We might have known each other fifteen years, instead of four months. He was so familiar to me, so comfortable, though I never quite knew what to expect from him.

He started walking about the chamber, his eyes looking down at the floor. "Do you think," he began, his voice soft, "that we will be happy?"

His question startled me, and I watched his face for a moment, noting the crease between his brows, before replying. "Yes, I do."

"So do I," he answered.

He came and stood beside the bed, looking down upon me and smiling slightly. "Has no one told you how lovely you are?" he whispered.

I felt my face heat with color as I looked away, feeling young and foolish.

"There is no part of you," he said, still hushed, "that I do not love."

"Edward," I murmured, still unable to meet his eye. There was something in his voice, a deepness in his tone, that clenched at my heart.

And then he knelt at the bed, reaching out his arms to bring me close, and I felt my sudden shyness fade away in an instant.

He wiped away the silly childish tears that pricked my eyes and laughed at me and smoothed my hair. "My wife," he said close to my ear. "It will not always be easy, you know. I told you once I must marry an heiress to live, and though the circumstances have changed greatly, my funds have not."

I thought of why he'd mention this matter now, of all times. And then I thought of the wedding reception and the empty chair somewhere to our left. Edward's father had not attended the ceremony, and I had not even bothered to notice. Edward spoke so rarely of his own family, and curiosity began to bite at me, but I pushed it away.

"It's your person I want," I told him, remembering how he had taken me in his arms and told me nearly the same thing when I mentioned my lack of dowry only weeks ago. "Money doesn't mean a thing to me."

"That is a lie, Bella."

"Well, it means a lot less than being with you. I'd rather be with you than have all the gold in England."

"Would you?"

I put my two hands on his shoulders and stared straight at him. The auburn hair, the green eyes, the little pulse that beat in his right temple. He was the only one I could ever dream of wanting, the only man I could ever imagine loving.

"Yes, Edward. Now stop being so somber."

"And you will never change your mind about me?" he asked hesitantly.

"Never."

He looked back towards the window for a moment. There were candles lit throughout the room, and they flickered orange light against his cheek.

Then he bent suddenly and kissed my cheek. "Whatever you suffer you shall share with me from this day forward." He said, his voice hushed again, but his tone fervent. "Will you promise?"

"I promise," I said.

Gently, he drew me closer. I rested my head against his chest and sighed as his lips touched my temple.

"I feel very lucky," I told him, smiling against his shirt. And I truly meant it. Yes, we had many obstacles before us. There were payments to make, a house to keep clean, letters to write, food to cook, clothing to mend. My mother and brother were still hesitant to accept us, and Edward's father was still an enigma to me. There was gossip and rumors, and a world of obstacles trying to drive us apart.

"As do I," Edward replied, grinning as well, and tilting my chin upward to capture my lips.

And yet, we were lucky, because in the end, we were simple, and we were perfect for each other. A man who taught a girl to laugh, and a woman who gave an indecorous man a sense of honor.

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for reading. It means the world to me that someone could find amusement or entertainment in something I do just for fun. It's been a blast!<p>

Keep a look out for more short stories, one-shots, and full length fics. I'll keep my profile updated with my projects.

And I need to make a shout out to ExquisiteEdward, who is a fabulous writer, a fantastic friend, and the best beta I could ever ask for. She is truly amazing, and I'd never get a single thing done without her support and patience. She read about 10 versions of this last chapter... if that isn't patience, I don't know what is.

So thank you, everyone :) I hope you've enjoyed the ride.


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